


Hit Me With the Baseline

by DeceitfulHonesty



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/F, Music Festival, awkward first meetings, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceitfulHonesty/pseuds/DeceitfulHonesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma goes to a music festival and ends up having more fun than she thought she would. At least, until she punches a random stranger in the face in the mosh pit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With the Baseline

    Jemma wasn’t sure an outdoor music festival was really her scene, but Bobbi had an extra ticket and insisted Jemma would find something she liked there. It was a big festival, there had to be something Jemma would enjoy. When Bobbi picked her up looking like she was pulled from a photo of Woodstock, with her fringe covered crop top and a small headband across her forehead, Jemma could tell she would feel out of place.

  
     Smaller stages were set up in the field surrounding the main stage that would alternate having bands play, while another band warmed up on the next one. The music wasn’t anything that Jemma would usually listen to, but it was tolerable.

  
    What was not tolerable was the heat. There didn’t seem to be any shade in the entire festival area, other than the small First Aid tents which were loaded with dehydrated festival-goers by noon. Of course today would be the hottest day of the summer.

  
    The crowd only made the heat worse. There was plenty of space in the festival site, but the thousands of patrons seemed to think they could only hear the music if they were pressed up against stage as close as they could get. Once that band was over, the tide would shift and sweep over to the next stage for the next band. The swarm of bodies in various states of skimpy clothing and body paint made Jemma claustrophobic.

  
    As the day went on, Jemma started to enjoy herself more. She was sure the $15 cocktails Bobbi kept sliding her were helping with that. The constant shoving of people against her seemed less annoying after her fourth frozen concoction served in a hollow plastic guitar and the music was suddenly amazing.

  
    Jemma trailed along after Bobbi as she was dragged from stage to stage to listen to ‘the actual best band ever. No really, this one’s the best.’

  
    By the late afternoon, Jemma was pretty sure she was having more fun than Bobbi. She finally recognized a band on the set list and tugged Bobbi through the crowd to find the stage they were playing on.

  
    The band was already halfway through their set when they found it, but Jemma didn’t care at that point. She joined in the reveling of the other festival-goers, swaying her hips and singing the words along with the band.

  
    Bobbi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer to the stage, towards something called the ‘mosh pit.’ Jemma had never been in a mosh pit before, but at this point, it sounded like the best place to be.

  
    It turned out the mosh pit was where the most enthusiastic people gathered to jump around excitedly to the music. Jemma took only a few minutes to get on their level. When the band played the opening chords to her favorite song, Jemma was jumping up and down in time with the mass around her.

  
    The lead singer screamed, “Put your hands in the air!”

  
    Jemma thrust her fists into the air with vigor, cheering along with the lyrics. Through the next verse, she waved her arms above her head and danced along.

  
    The big finale started winding up and Jemma punched the air along with the beat.

  
    Except she wasn’t paying attention to where her fists landed and she felt her hand connect with skin. She felt a crunch and hear a loud “SON OF A—” before the screeching guitar drowned out the rest.

  
    Despite the jumping crowd, Jemma found a brunette woman within arm’s reach, clutching her nose.

  
    “Oh my god!” Jemma shrieked. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and—”

  
    “Yeah, totally fine,” she woman responded, waving her off. Jemma could barely hear what she was saying over the screaming crowd. Jemma pulled the woman’s hand off her nose to inspect the damage. Blood was pouring from her nostrils and the bridge of her nose looked slightly crooked.

  
    The woman cocked an eyebrow at Jemma’s expression. “Is it bad?”

  
    “We need to get you to the First Aid tent,” Jemma replied.

  
    She ignored the long, whiny ‘noooo’ from the woman and tugged her towards the back of the crowd. Which was easier said than done. Jemma was still quite drunk and the crowd did not seem very inclined to let them through.

  
    After a lot of stumbling and shoving, Jemma pulled the woman out of the mass of people into an open space and searched for the First Aid tent.

  
    “Dude, why couldn’t we wait until they were done? It doesn’t hurt that bad,” the woman complained, slurring slightly. Great, she was drunk too. On the upside, that was probably the only reason she wasn’t screaming in pain at the moment.

  
    “You probably have a broken nose. You need ice or...something,” Jemma reasoned.

  
    “How do you know? Are you a doctor?” the woman challenged.

  
    “Yes, actually.”

  
    “Then, fix me up while we’re listening to the band!” she argued.

  
    Jemma grabbed a handful of napkins as they passed the concession stand and pressed them up to the woman’s nose to attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m in no state to be andmis- admister- ad- giving first aid to anyone.”

  
    “Ha! You’re drunk,” the woman replied.

  
    “So are you!” Jemma snapped, because that was apparently important. She shook her head and grabbed the woman’s hand to pull her into the First Aid tent. One of the nurses saw the blood and came running over to them.

  
    “What happened?”

  
    The woman gestured to Jemma, nonchalantly. “She punched me in the face.”

  
    “Do we need to call security?” the nurse asked her.

  
    “No!” Jemma shouted, “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to— I was— And it was crowded—”

  
    The nurse shot her a disbelieving look, but guided the woman over to a cot without further comment. Jemma wondered why she was being dragged along as well, until she realized the woman hadn’t let go of her hand. She tried to pull away, but her hand was squeezed tighter.

  
    “You got me into this. You have to keep me company now,” the woman explained.

  
    Jemma rolled her eyes and perched on the end of the cot. It would probably be easier for Bobbi to find her here anyway. The nurse came back with a small bag of ice and some forms.

  
    “What’s you name, hun?” she asked.

  
    “Daaaisy,” the woman slurred, pressing the ice bag to her nose and wincing slightly.

  
    “Fill these out. Can you call a friend to come get you?”

  
    “Yeah, he probably knows where to find me,” Daisy replied, taking the forms. “For now, I’ve got the cute girl who hit me to keep me company.”

  
    Jemma flushed at the statement. She pulled out her phone and sent Bobbi a quick text to let her know where she was. Knowing Bobbi, she would be kicking down all the doors in the bathroom and interrogating everyone until she found Jemma.

  
    “Who’s Bobbi? Your boyfriend?” Daisy asked, peering over Jemma’s shoulder.

  
    “Bobbi’s a girl, so she’s my girlfriend.” At Daisy’s slightly crestfallen expression, Jemma realized what she said. “I mean, not my ‘girlfriend,’ she’s my friend who is a girl. We’re not— I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  
    “Cool. Ne meither- Me neither,” Daisy replied, perking up slightly. “Oh, I love this song!”

  
    Jemma vaguely heard the distant beat of a song that she didn’t recognize.

  
    “I wanna do bad things with you,” Daisy sang, leaning towards Jemma.

  
    Jemma’s face flushed again, but she didn’t lean away. Even when the ice bag covering half her face, Jemma realized that Daisy was beautiful. Her attire blended in perfectly with the rest of the festival attendees, from the short shorts with the frayed edges to the slightly off-kilter flower crown perched on her head. Her short hair was tousled and slightly damp, probably from having a someone spill beer on her, as had happened to Jemma many times that day, and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

  
    “There’s no way those are real song lyrics,” Jemma countered.

  
    “Of course they are! It’s an awesome song,” Daisy defended.

  
    The alcohol still coursing through her way making Jemma brave, suddenly, and she leaned in to Daisy slightly. “Maybe, we should listen to the whole song sometime.”

  
    Daisy grinned and opened her mouth to reply.

  
    “Daisy! How did I know I would find you here?”

  
    A large man, who rivaled Bobbi in height, ducked into the tent and shook his head at Daisy.

  
    “Mack! You know me so well,” Daisy fondly replied.

  
    Mack rolled his eyes and went to find the nurse. The quick distraction allowed Jemma to peer out of the tent to see a flurry of blonde, grabbing people and shoving her phone in their faces. Bobbi was probably showing random strangers Jemma’s picture to try to find her. A glance at her phone told Jemma she had only gotten as far as ‘punched a girl’ in her message before sending it. Oops.

  
    “I probably should go tell Bobbi I’m alright,” Jemma muttered.

  
    Daisy jerked up from whatever she was fiddling with. “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you around la— I don’t even know your name!”

  
    Jemma chuckled. “It’s Jemma.”

  
    “Well, Jemma, you’ve got a mean right hook,” Daisy teased.

  
    Jemma spared a quick wave before jogging to Bobbi before she harassed anyone else.

  
    Bobbi caught sight of her and shoved through a group of teenagers before sweeping her into a hug. “Jemma! Where have you been? All I get is a text saying you punched someone! I thought you got thrown out or— What’s on your arm?”

  
    Jemma glanced down at her arm. There was a barely legible scrawl of numbers covering most of her forearm, followed by a small flower. Jemma smiled and glanced back towards the tent. Mack was guiding Daisy towards the exit of the festival, while Daisy seemed to be emphatically miming the whole incident of getting punched.

  
    Turns out Bobbi was right: Jemma did find something she liked at the festival.


End file.
